


E•MO•TION

by Chesra



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Love at First Sight, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 00:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11635125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chesra/pseuds/Chesra
Summary: A tale of true love, astronomy, the mysteries of the universe, and catchy pop music.(aka the shance romcom au we all deserve)





	E•MO•TION

**Author's Note:**

> see this is what happens when you loop carly rae jepsen for weeks and come out with a feverished idea of how call me maybe is a shance fic waiting to happen
> 
> also this is a birthday fic for lance, who deserves love, romance and friendships ♥

"They say that when you meet the love of your life, the radio will be playing a Carly Rae Jepsen song," Hunk says, using the same tone as last night's study session on quantum mechanics.

 

Lance raises an eyebrow as the familiar refrain of Call Me Maybe wafts from the cafe's speakers. "Do you mean to tell me people have only found true love since 2007?"

 

Hunk shrugs. "I don't make the rules of looove, man," he says, with a slow nod. "Maybe in the early 2000s people were grooving to like, Mariah Carey. But in the year of Lord two thousand and ten and onwards, the one true herald of Emotion is Carly Rae."

 

"I need statistics on this," Lance announces. He elbows their fellow tablemate in the cafe. "What say you, Pidge?"

 

"I think," Pidge says slowly, "that you have less than thirty seconds before the love of your life hightails it out of here."

 

Lance opens his mouth to ask them to clarify this patently absurd statement, but then he looks up - and there he is. Tall, Asian, and handsome.

 

 _It's hard to look right, at you baby_ , Carly Rae Jepsen croons. Lance watches, open-mouthed, as his supposed love of his life crosses over to the counter, eyes squinting at the cafe blackboard. He's wearing square black frames, which should by all rights make him look nerdy and uncool, but it's entirely negated by the undercut and the dyed forelock falling over his eyes. Lance is rapidly blinking, because this person is clearly A God who has fallen among men, and at any given moment would probably vanish. He has been blessed with an apparition of hotness.

 

"What the fuck," he says, rooted to his chair from sheer shock.

 

"Lance, the song is about to end!" Hunk reminds him. Lance is shook(t) with the ridiculousness of it all, because Hunk genuinely makes it sound like this is an emergency; that if Lance does not get up right now and talk to this fine specimen as a Canadian pop star blares in the background, he will somehow miss his chance in life and love. This isn't a sitcom - his friends can't predict who he falls in love with! Just last week he'd been crazy over some gorgeous British exchange student.

 

The man turns from the counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. He's ordered to go, and he's heading straight for the exit. That's it, then. Lance turns to his friends, as if to shrug and say _he tried_ , to their usual disappointment, but then. Then!

 

He meets Lance's eye. There is eye contact, and it is electric. Lance is caught with his head in mid-turn, exposing his left jaw, and Lance wants to scream. That's his bad angle. He looks better from his right. Is it too late to turn his head to the other side? Better yet, bury it in his hands and pretend nothing has happened. Abort mission. Abort!

 

He is walking over to their table. "Hi," he says.

 

"Hi," Lance says faintly, feeling vaguely lightheaded. This is...not normal. Beautiful people don't come over to talk to him. (The gorgeous British exchange student has yet to realize his existence, and probably never will. Lance has accepted that fate.) Is he going to get Punk'd? Has his friends paid this person to come and talk to him? He wouldn't put it past Pidge, but Hunk wouldn't be so cruel. Besides, Lance can't even risk taking his eyes away from this man. He could still just be a product of his addled mind. Lance regrets the three cups of coffee. There is a human limit to caffeine, and he's probably surpassed it.

 

 _Before you came into my life I missed you so bad_ , Carly sings, which is both terrifyingly accurate and eerie at the same time.

 

The man smiles at him. Holy shit. Lance has Ascended. Baby, heaven _is_ a place on earth.

 

"You're working with Professor Coran, right?" the man continues, as if he's entirely unaware that his presence has made Lance's brain stop all of its higher functions in favor of pumping blood into his arteries thrice as fast. "I saw you in his room the other day."

 

He’s seen him? Scratch that, he remembers Lance? Okay, this is officially a dream. "Are you for real?" Lance asks, because he lacks a brain-to-mouth filter, and also because things are getting too surreal. He's going to wake up any time soon.

 

The man's smile powers down a few notches. "Excuse me?"

 

"You came all the way over here to ask that?"

 

"Yes?" The man tilts his head. There's a slight flush to his face. "Is that not -" he rubs his neck with his free hand, " - sorry. I guess that just sounds creepy," he says, looking embarrassed. "I figured it was an acceptable way to introduce yourself to a stranger, but I never think these things through."

 

Lance gapes.

 

"Okay," the man says, taking a step back. "I made things awkward. I'm going to go now. Sorry for taking your time!"

 

Carly has just sung her last _so call me maybe_ , but Lance is too distracted to realize the radio has transitioned to a Maroon 5 song. Instead, he stands up and says, "Professor Coran is my thesis advisor."

 

The man blinks.

 

"I'm doing a study on multiple stellar bodies in the Cygni system," Lance blurts out wildly, because he has no idea what he is doing and also, he and Professor Coran had spent two hours in his room discussing possible thesis topics, and Lance had worn out his brain racking for what to present to class without sounding like an idiot beside world wonder Keith Kogane, leading astrophysicist undergraduate, Lance's sworn rival and occasional hatecrush.  

 

"Oh," the man says, the smile slowly sneaking back into his mouth. "That's why. I did the mapping for Cygni system during my class two years ago, maybe - "

 

"Oh my god," Lance interrupts, because he only has three working references, and the only one that's a previous thesis work, which has won several awards and is highly lauded in the astronomy community, is by a person whom Lance has already promised his firstborn to, in return for his unparallelled assistance to his study, regardless of the fact that Lance has never met him and probably never will. Lance has already written half of his acknowledgements singing his praises. " _You're_ Takashi Shirogane?"

 

The man laughs awkwardly. "Shiro is fine."

 

Shiro. _Shiro_. Lance tries the name on his tongue, his face heating to a dull red at the o.

 

Shiro coughs. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," he says.

 

"It's Lance," Hunk replies, because Lance has short-circuited, again, and it's a good five seconds before his friend comes to his rescue. "His name, I mean. My name is Hunk, and this is Pidge!"

 

“Hello,” Shiro says, turning his megawatt smile to his friends. Lance is temporarily relieved to no longer be on the receiving end of it; it’s a bit like staring at the sun, and Lance is well aware of the consequences of sun exposure. Sunburn, heat stroke, and in worst cases, _blindness._ He’s learned well from the Icarus myth, thank you. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Hunk actually holds out his hand to shake. Amazing. Lance glances at their touching hands, wondering if he can survive the contact. Shiro is apparently thinking the same thing, because when he shifts to Lance, he drops his hand promptly to his side.

 

He fiddles with the strap of his shoulder bag. “I have class,” he says, mouth twisted. “So I really have to go. But - uh, here.” He reaches inside his bag and pulls out an honest-to-God calling card. It’s on immaculate matte paper, with the name _Takashi Shirogane_ printed in innocuous sans serif font. There’s a number and an email right below it. “Feel free to call me if you need anything,” he says. “With the thesis. Or anything else.” If Lance had said the last phrase he would have waggled his eyebrow, thrown some finger guns for good measure, but Shiro just comes across as earnest.

 

“Nice meeting you, Lance!” he says again, and he waves before heading out of the cafe.

 

“What the hell,” Lance says, as Adam Levine begs for some sweetness in his life. “What just happened here?”

 

==

 

They're studying in the library together when Lance snaps. Lance will be the last person to admit that whatever so-called rivalry he has with Keith has simmered down into an almost friendship; they're still competitive over grades - Lance will knock Keith from the top of the class standings even if he has to die trying - but other than that, they get along well enough to choose each other as partners whenever the professor calls for it. But right now he has zero focus on the classwork, and his gibberish notes are a clear-cut indication of it.

  
  
“I met the love of my life yesterday,” Lance finally says, deciding to take the bull by the horns.

 

Keith looks up from his physics textbook. “What?” he deadpans, his eyebrows furrowed in the _i have no idea what you’re saying_ way, not the _i don’t give a shit about what you’re saying_ way. Lance sometimes wonders how he’s gotten so good at reading Keith’s minute eyebrow meanings, but that is for another day.

 

“We were in a cafe,” Lance flails, “and Carly Rae Jepsen was playing in the background-”

 

Keith snorts. “Really? What was it? _I Really Like You?_ ”

 

“It was _Call Me Maybe_ , Keith,” Lance corrects, and then he stops. “Wait. You actually know another Carly Rae Jepsen song?”

 

Keith peers at him as if he’s being the ridiculous one. "Lance, her songs play on the radio all the time. I don't live in a shack in the middle of the desert, you know."

  
  
Lance is still unnerved. Keith avoids pop music like the plague. Call Me Maybe is the quintessential Carly song, but non-fans wouldn't have been able to tell her songs apart from the usual regurgitated pop fanfare. (Hunk would be up in arms about this, of course.) "Are you sure you're the real Keith and not some poor copy abducted by aliens?" he asks, crossing his arms.

  
Keith rolls his eyes. "Do you really think alien!Keith would know the entirety of Carly Rae Jepsen's discography?" He frowns at Lance's dramatic gasp. "Lance, I've listened to _Emotion Side B_. it's pretty good."

  
"Oh my god," Lance exclaims, because his world is tilting out of axis. Keith is CRJ fan. This is possibly bigger news than his love of his life.

  
"Why is this such a surprise?" Keith says. "I'm not going to play Taylor Swift in my dorm room but I know half the songs in _1989_. The pop culture osmosis is unavoidable, with you and Hunk around."

  
  
"I'm a Katy Perry stan," Lance says. "Also, Emotion Side B is extended play. This is wild, Keith. Did you buy an actual CD? Because you don’t even have an iPhone to download those songs into."

  
  
Keith narrows his eyes, but doesn't take the bait. "Anyway?"

  
  
"What do you mean - anyway?"

  
  
"I mean - get on with your story, Lance. You're off-track."

  
  
Oh. Ohh. Lance flushes. "Well. _Call Me Maybe_ was playing, and then Hunk and Pidge were telling me I was going to meet the love of my life. And then bam! Like a zany romantic comedy, he was right there."

 

Keith looks confused. "Wait so...you knew who it was?"

  
  
"Yeah!" Lance nods vigorously. "That's the thing like - there were like, a dozen other people in that cafe. But I just saw him and I knew, man. I knew. He was the love of my life, and it was the freakiest shit ever.

  
  
"Plus, he seemed to know it too? He came over to our table, introduced himself even, while I tried not to make a fool of myself."

  
  
Keith's eyebrow shoots up in surprise. "Never thought I'd see the day you'd be honest about yourself, Lance."

  
  
"Rude, Keith," Lance protests. "I am man enough to admit my weaknesses. And this guy,  Keith, is 100% an arrow to the knee. He is a solid twelve, on the scale of one to ten. I'm like, guess who won the soulmate lottery, bitches."

  
  
"Does that mean you're going to stop mooning over Allura? Because it's creeping everyone out," Keith says. He looks back at his textbook, turning the page, a sure sign that he's done listening to Lance's tangent.

  
  
But now that he's started Lance doesn't know how to stop. He's been floating in a cloud of his own thoughts the entirety of yesterday afternoon. Hunk had been kind enough to leave him to his daydreaming, and Pidge had just told him to text the fucking number, please, before they left for their evening classes. Which he has yet to do.

  
  
"Should I text him?" He asks Keith now.

  
  
"What?" Keith asks again. This is the problem when your friends can't keep up with your stream of consciousness. It leads to very difficult conversations. Every day he thanks the Lord for leading him to his best friend Hunk, who can connect the dots to all the stuff he leaves unsaid.

  
  
"The guy," Lance says. "The love of my life. He gave me his number yesterday, but I haven't messaged him yet."

  
  
Keith heaves a long-suffering sigh, which Lance feels is entirely uncalled for. “Then what are you waiting for?”

 

“I don’t know,” Lance admits. “Some sign, probably. It’s kind of - okay, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would prank me, but what if this is just some elaborate set-up? What if I’m being filmed at this moment? Maybe it’s just some collegiate Buzzfeed video on the perils of romanticizing love. Because, you know,” his voice is getting tinier with each passing word, “guys like him don’t go for guys like me.”

 

Keith stares, expression unreadable. Then he closes his textbook, shifting his whole body to face Lance. “Any guy would be lucky to have you,” he says, in utter seriousness, and at that moment, Lance is ninety percent close to dropping the hate in the hatecrush.

 

So instead he muffles his thanks, and goes back to his notes. The least he can do is pull his weight for this project with Keith.

 

==

 

There are only five Chinese restaurants within the vicinity of the campus, and only two of them have actual Chinese chefs working in the kitchen. Currently, Shiro is not eating in one of them, because Keith likes the taste of fake Chinese food better than real one, which Shiro can’t fault him for. “Fast food Chinese,” as they both like to call it, is a special taste you can only acquire in cheaper establishments, perfect for students on a budget.

 

Keith dips the overburnt siomai in the sauce. “They should have cheap Korean restaurants too,” he grumbles, waving his chopsticks in indignation. “I mean, if people can appropriate the makeup and the fashion, the food should be easy to do too.”

 

Shiro shrugs. There’s a huge influx of Japanese cuisine in the market, but nothing ever tastes the same. “Give it a few more years.”

 

Keith rolls his eyes. “We won’t be here in a few more years,” he says. “We’ll be in space, as the first all-Asian astronaut delegate. Then we can pretend racism is over and accept the upcoming assimilation.”

 

Shiro laughs at the sarcasm. He and Keith had become friends by virtue of being Asian, as people lump them together in one group even though Shiro is Japanese and Keith is Korean. When there are only thirty Asian kids in your college, it's hard not to know everyone in spite of the age gap.

  
  
Shiro actually quite likes Keith, regardless of the similar ethnicity. He never takes shit from anyone. People would ask Keith where he's from, and he would reply, “Texas.”

  
“I mean originally,” they would insist.

  
And Keith would stare at them dead in the eye and answer, “Y’all.”

 

"You'd think they've never met a half-Korean person before," Keith would often gripe. His mother wasn't even born in Korea - she'd been raised in the South by her immigrant parents. The only Korean Keith has picked up in his life is from k-dramas, which are his mother’s only vice, and now that he’s in the university, Shiro’s guilty secret.

  
  
Shiro, on the other hand, is studying abroad. It's both an honor and a burden, to be far away fron his parents. But he's an only child and they want him to succeed, so he was packed off to America with his stilted accent and Grade 1 EIKEN scores. Once he succeeds here he can come back home, decorated in laurels and ready to contribute to the Japanese economy.

 

“I think we can hold off the Asian-American dream for now, buddy,” Shiro says. “That ain’t going to be solved in our time.”

 

Keith raises an eyebrow at the over exaggerated accent, but lets it slide. Instead, he takes the last siomai and chews it slowly. Shiro sips on his iced milk tea, enjoying the slurping sound as the straw sucks around the ice.

 

“You’ve been around lately,” Keith says afterwards, clicking his chopsticks to a close. “I thought you were taking that OJT in the Midwest.”

 

“I am,” Shiro admits. “But I took a class on the Principles of Stellar Evolution - Professor Alfor’s opened slots, and I’ve been dying to get into one of his classes since freshman year. I wasn’t going to pass it up. It’s only for three months.”

 

“Nerd,” Keith says, who doesn’t give a fuck about choosing professors. He has faith he’ll pass them all, something Shiro wouldn’t argue with. Keith’s a genius, all rights considered. Shiro knows, at some level, that Keith could very well surpass him. This doesn’t bother him. If anything, it comforts him to have someone who sees the universe in the same critical perspective. The only difference is that Keith is cynical and introverted, something common in the science community. Shiro’s personable, so people are more excited to get him to present in talks and seminars. Keith would probably knife the first person to suggest him for public speaking. “So you’re what, driving up here twice a week just for that?”

 

“It’s not so bad,” Shiro says. “There’s that Asian fusion restaurant with rocking ume sushi. And you.”

 

Keith scoffs, but he seems pleased he’s on the list of things Shiro appreciates from Penn State.

 

“And,” Shiro feels his cheeks grow warm, “I may have met someone.” He hasn’t said it out loud since it happened, which shows just how much of a coward Shiro really is. He’d been pessimistic about it, too - Lance had barely said ten words to him, and he hadn’t looked enthused when Shiro had given him his card. Shiro had figured he wasn’t going to message him after all.

 

But Lance had texted him last night. And Shiro is riding the high.

 

Keith looks doubtful. “You’re dating someone?” he asks, and Shiro would be offended by the incredulity in his tone if he had been a lesser man. Keith has never been good at hiding his disdain, and he’s privy to Shiro’s less than stellar dating record (kissed three girls, kissed two guys, dated someone for two weeks before being dumped for being ‘hot but boring’), so it makes sense for him to reserve judgement.

 

“No,” Shiro says. “Not yet. I don’t know. I saw him and I just _knew_ , Keith.”

 

Keith grimaces. “Oh no.”

 

“I know,” Shiro is quick to say, because he’s not a romantic like his best friend Matt, and also Keith is the kind of person who doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Shiro is - well. Casually optimistic? Life hasn’t thrown him curveballs in the romance category, but he’s watched enough romcoms to know the symptoms. And the signs had been all there. “But it was definitely _something._ I guess I’ll find out.”

 

“This sounds ridiculous,” Keith says. “You haven’t even gone out with this person.”

 

“True,” Shiro concedes. “But I just feel there’s a lot of potential to it. Anyway, we’re meeting later for coffee - ironic, since I ran into him at a coffee shop to begin with - and I was wondering if you had any suggestions. I haven’t been going around the campus for a while, I don’t want to come across as,” he shrugs uncomfortably, the word _boring_ hovering like an ugly spectre over him, “uninteresting.”

 

Keith stares at him. “Did you meet up with me today to ask for dating advice?”

 

“No. Uh. Maybe?” Shiro winces. “I mean, if you have _ideas…_ ”

 

Admittedly, Keith has no dating record to boast of, but Keith is also the type not to be bothered by the fact. He’s surprisingly sure of himself; he has little need for other people, and has always preferred solitude.

 

Also, he’s been lowkey in love with this one guy in his course for like, a year already. Shiro had initially been confused, and then concerned, and then amused as Keith’s stories evolved from faint grumbling to slight admiration over time. Of course, by that time the guy, who had declared himself as Keith’s ‘rival,’ had already become Keith’s friend. Shiro has no idea if Keith’s planning on asking him out or not - from what he can tell, Keith’s reluctant about losing the friendship now that he has it. Shiro feels that’s a loss - after all, he and Matt have swapped spit experimentally and had gotten a good laugh out of it. But Keith’s feelings are probably more fragile, so Shiro doesn’t push.

 

“Nope, sorry,” Keith says, shaking his head. “Why are you even asking me, dude - you know I have nothing.” He rolls his eyes. “This should be more your thing.”

 

“Well,” Shiro hedges. “He seems like a very...cool individual. Like, all millenial-y and stuff. So I figured that, what, wine and cheese won’t be his thing. And all the coffee shops I know just serve regular coffee, none of those fancy shmancy things you put on Instagram.”

 

Keith laughs humorlessly. “Shiro, I don’t even have Instagram. What makes you think I’d have insights? I may be in the same age group but I totally missed out on the hype, thanks.”

 

“Right,” Shiro says. He supposes it had been worth a shot. He could try asking Matt, but his best friend has a tendency to go from zero to a hundred. If he lets Matt take the reins, he’d have him proposing halfway through the first date. Shiro doesn’t want to come across as desperate.

 

Keith eyes him. “It’ll be fine,” he says. “You’re a good guy.”

 

Shiro groans. “Oh yeah, that’s me, Takashi Shirogane, what a Good Guy™,” he deadpans, sighing. It’s just a crunch to always be the guy people see as a father figure, not the guy people want to go drinking with after classes. He’s not a stick-in-the-mud, really! “Hot but boring.” He sighs into his hands.

 

“Well,” Keith says, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “you do always encourage people to do their best. Plus, you drive everyone who gets wasted home from parties. And show up with medicine and hot soup the day after.”

 

“That was one time,” Shiro protests. At least the hot soup had been. Shiro has become an expert in removing vomit stains from his car seats. “There was still another day of finals!”

 

Keith laughs. “You can’t help it,” he says. “Being responsible is ingrained in your system.” Shiro sighs, because he can’t even argue with that.

 

“But who knows, maybe he’s into that,” Keith says, grinning. “Less choke me, daddy, and more oh yeah, I can help you grocery shop and replace your broken lightbulb, baby.”

 

“Wha-”

 

“You can still choke him afterwards, too,” Keith adds. “Nobody ever said those two are mutually exclusive.”

 

“Keith!” Shiro whines, his face heating up. “Don’t give me that right now. I have to meet Lance in an hour.”

 

Keith tenses. “Lance?”

 

Shiro flushes. He hadn’t meant to spill the name. He’s still a little cautious - he’s not sure if this is even going to lead to anything. “Yeah,” Shiro says. “He’s - well, I saw him at Professor Coran’s a week ago, but I figured he was some figment of my imagination. And when I ran into him again I was pretty much - well, what did I have to lose, really? If life is going to let me run into an attractive man twice in my lifetime, I probably shouldn’t pass up the chance.”

 

Keith looks like he’s doing a complicated math equation in his head. “Brown hair, dark skin, great smile?”

 

Shiro blinks. “Actually - yes. Wait, do you know -” Then Shiro remembers the name of the guy Keith used to moan about.  "Oh," he says. "He's _your_ Lance." There is a moment of horror as they both absorb this.

 

"Wow," Shiro says eventually, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "I am totally shitting on the bro code right now, huh."

  
  
"Damn it, Shiro," Keith says, because he really doesn't find it funny when people assume that Shiro is his older brother.

 

“Pun unintended,” Shiro adds quickly. “I mean, in reference to the dating standard of, you know, not dating your friend’s crushes. Fuck. Is that a universal thing, or have I been led on by too much American TV?”

 

“Well,” Keith muses, “Korean dramas would beg to differ.”

 

Shiro winces. “I’m really not a fan of love triangles, Keith.”

 

“You and me both.” Keith cups his chin in his hand. “So, the love of your life, huh?”

 

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Shiro says.

 

“Well,” Keith says, mouth a grim line. “That’s how he’d put it.”

 

The words take a while to register on Shiro’s brain. “He - he told you about me?” he stammers, a little shocked.

 

Keith nods, shoulders slumped. “He was asking me if he should text you yesterday,” he says.

 

And he had. Shiro feels warmth expand his chest. But then… “Oh Keith,” he sighs. “Shit. This is bad, huh.”

 

“It’s fine, Shiro,” Keith says, sighing. “I always did tell you I don’t have a chance with him. I mean he hated me for a whole semester, for fuck’s sake.”

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean -” Shiro feels very torn between the happiness and confusion swirling in his thoughts. “I can cancel the date,” he offers, helplessly. “If you want.”

 

“Don’t,” Keith says immediately. “Lance is probably looking forward to it.”

 

“And he really likes you,” he adds morosely.

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Keith continues, as Shiro stares at him with wide eyes. “I told him to text you. Well, not exactly, but something like that. I’d want to see him happy,” Keith says, though there’s a slight crack to his voice. “And I know you’re a good guy, so. It’s better than him dating another girl who’s just stringing him along. I don’t think I can stand another episode of that.”

 

Shiro leans back on his chair, upset. His friendship with Keith is honestly one of his most valued things - he’s friends with a lot of people, but Keith is the sort of person he could call up ten years from now without contact and still be someone he could count on with his life. The way he had met Keith had been similar; he’d seen him and just known, really, that this person was going to be an important part of his life. He’d wondered if it would ever be romantic; and he won’t lie - the possibility always lay there, but the friendship was unshakeable. It is one of the things Shiro would always consider as a fact.

 

So obviously, he’d rather not date the only guy Keith has ever talked about in a romantic sense.

 

“Well, who knows,” Shiro says quietly. “Maybe we won’t hit it off.” He raises a hand when Keith glares at him. “I’m not going to throw it, Keith, I’m just - eh. This won’t be the last in my string of disastrous dates.”

 

==

 

Hilariously enough, Shiro spends the rest of the week waiting for his words to bite him back in the ass. It’s almost terrifying that the other shoe has yet to drop, because his date goes well - uncommonly well, even, which is suspicious in itself. Shiro ends up choosing his usual coffee shop - it’s mostly empty on afternoons, and today is no exception. There are two customers are engaged in their laptops, and another is scribbling furiously on their notebook, but there’s nobody else other than the crew. Shiro likes the ambiance of the place for studying, but he’s not sure if it’s first date material.

 

Lance arrives five minutes before four, a blue scarf wrapped over his neck. He spots Shiro instantly as he pushes the door open.

 

“Am I late?” he asks, his eyes flicking to the wall clock. He’s rubbing his shoulders from the cold.

 

“No, you’re fine,” Shiro reassures, and to his surprise, the red creeps up from Lance’s neck to his face. The reaction is infectious; Shiro can feel his own ears reddening. “I mean, it’s fine. I always arrive ahead of time.”

 

“Oh,” Lance says. “Is that a personal thing, or a cultural thing?”

 

Shiro tilts his head. He hadn’t been expecting that question. “Both, actually,” Shiro says. “I genuinely believe time is of the essence.” While he internally cringes at himself for saying a stock phrase out loud, he gestures to the chair across him. “Please, take a seat.”

 

Lance, who’s been hovering awkwardly in front of the table, gingerly takes a seat. He doesn’t look any less tense though.

 

“What do you want to order?” Shiro asks.

 

“Uh,” Lance says. “I’ll go take a look at the menu.” And he’s out of his chair in a flash, leaving Shiro to wonder if he’s already botched it up. Lance eventually comes back with a slice of chocolate cake. He slides a fork over to Shiro’s side.

 

“Wasn’t sure if you’re a fan of sweets,” Lance says, he sets the plate down.

 

Shiro shrugs. “I give everything a try at least once.” He watches Lance take a forkful first, before tentatively getting some for himself. The taste of the chocolate is mild and gooey. Shiro’s surprised to learn he doesn’t dislike it. In the corner of his eye, he notices Lance watching. He takes another tiny forkful to show his approval, then sets aside the food to focus on the guy sitting across him.

 

Lance puts his elbows on the table, aiming for exaggerated casualness. “So, uh,” he says. “Your thesis was amazing.”

 

Shiro flushes. They’d talked about his thesis most of last night through text, ending with Shiro suggesting they meet to discuss it further. This feels like he brought Lance here under false pretenses. Maybe Lance doesn’t think this is a date. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not - the thought of Keith has crossed his mind twice since seeing Lance walk past the cafe’s glass windows.

 

“I’ve read it like ten times,” Lance continues. “I’m impressed at how thoroughly you were able to present your research given the lack of existing data at that time. I mean, it’s nowhere easier now. It’s great that what your paper is now recognized work.”

 

Shiro smiles. He has the Holts to thank for most of his sources. “I always hoped my work would help someone, so that’s good.”

 

“Oh it’s definitely helped,” Lance says quickly.

 

“Well,” Shiro says. “Given that we’ve only discovered the Cygni system in the past decade, there’s still so much more to learn about it. The potential for a good paper is there. I don’t think you’ll have trouble making your work interesting.” He smiles at Lance, who has a slightly glazed expression on his face. Shiro falters. Fuck, he’d used his professor voice again, hadn’t he? Matt always joked that people find it hot, but Lance may not be the type.

 

“Sorry,” Lance blurts out. “I’m really nervous - you’re - ” he ducks his head. “Well, you’re kind of my hero, actually - you’ve singlehandedly saved me from thesis hell.”

 

“And like, I never figured I’d meet you, ever, but this is all larger than life,” Lance admits. “So, yeah.” He grins at Shiro, self-deprecatingly, and Shiro is entirely too charmed. Keith hadn’t been kidding about the _great smile_ part.

 

“Well, I’m still a regular human being,” Shiro says. “I mean, it’s not like I’m half cyborg, capable of superhuman feats. You can relax.”

 

Surprisingly, Lance laughs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you _were_ a robot,” he says. “You seem a little too put together to be real. Totally Stepford Wives vibe.”

 

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Really? That’s the robot reference I’m going to get?”

 

“What, were you expecting RoboCop?” Lance teases. “Or the Terminator?”

 

“I’m not really a fan of violence,” Shiro says.

 

Lance gives him the onceover. “So what, you just work out for fun?”

 

Shiro chokes back a laugh. He isn’t wearing a tank top, but he has rolled up the sleeves of his button down shirt. “I used to take up karate in high school,” he says, flexing one arm.

 

“Badass!” Lance declares, eyes wide. “Where did you go to school?”

 

“Uh, back in Osaka, actually,” Shiro admits. Lance claps a hand to his mouth.

 

“I take the robot reference back,” he says. “You’re a shoujo manga love interest, through and through. Is it true that they give chocolates to guys they like on Valentines’ Day, or is that just something manga collectively decided to invent?”

 

“It’s real,” Shiro says, smiling at the faint memory of the holiday. “You read manga?”

 

“A little,” Lance says. “Whatever Hunk has lying around the room. I’m really more of a cartoon man myself.”

 

“Nice. What have you been watching recently?”

 

The conversation rolls on from there, jumping from summer anecdotes (“the first time I tried surfing, the board hit me on the head and I passed out”) to short reenactments (“Really? That’s your gun sound?”), and Shiro is almost disappointed when he looks at his watch and realizes it’s already half past six. At Lance’s expression, he feels the same.

 

“I have to drive out back to Cleveland,” Shiro says, rubbing his nape. “So I really have to go. But I have classes here every Tuesdays and Fridays so if you want we could…?” He lets his voice trail off, unsure if he’s just imagining Lance’s interest.

 

“Yes,” Lance says immediately. “Definitely. Um. Is this a date?” he asks, biting his lip.

 

Shiro is ninety percent sure his face is on fire. “It is if you want it to be,” he says hopefully.

 

Lance’s eyes go wide at that. Shiro’s just about to kick himself for being an idiot when Lance says, “Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Lance repeats. “Then I guess I look forward to date number two.” There’s that smile again, and Shiro is gone gone _gone._

 

==

 

“Lance, that’s like your tenth selfie,” Hunk says. They’re hanging out in their dorm room, and as much as Hunk loves his best friend, there’s only so much of the sound of the phone camera he can take in a matter of minutes.

 

Lance throws him a distressed look. “I just can’t get one right, Hunk!” he whines, throwing his phone at the mattress in despair. “And I definitely need to send one to Shiro soon. What if he forgets my face?”

 

“It’s been three days,” Hunk says. “I don’t think he’d forget you any time soon.”

 

Lance pouts. “You say that, but he could meet some smart and gorgeous individual in the Midwest, and it’ll just be like: _Lance who?_ I have to step up my game,” he declares.

 

“You’re seeing each other tomorrow after class,” Hunk reminds him. “He won’t need a selfie to tide him over.”

 

Lance sniffs. “He doesn’t even have Snapchat,” he says sadly. “I asked. I could send him a photo with the dog filter; that always makes bad photos look bearable.”

 

Hunk rolls his eyes as Lance picks up his phone again. “I’m going to confiscate that if you take another photo,” he warns. “Please, Lance. I’m trying to study.”

 

Lance flops on the bed, burying his face in his pillow. “Fine,” he says petulantly. “But remember: you and Pidge got me into this love of your life business - take responsibility for it.”

 

Hunk sighs. His best friend can be so melodramatic sometimes. “Fate’s shown you the way, buddy,” he says. “It’s _your_ job to follow through.”

 

There’s no reply to that, and Hunk gets like five sentences on his technical paper. He’s almost starting to get in the zone when Lance breaks the silence again.

 

“How’d you know, anyway?”

 

Hunk blinks. He’d been in deep thought of the molecular simulation of ionic liquids - they had various applications that Hunk’s been planning to present on a physical level. “Huh?”

 

“Shiro,” Lance reminds him. “The love of my life. How’d you guys know?”

 

Hunk wearily casts his mind back to a week ago. Truth be told, he’d just been jamming to Carly Rae Jepsen, but then he’d seen the guy, and something clicked in his brain. “I don’t really know, dude,” he says. “You know when you’re looking at an equation at the board, and it’s not making sense, and then suddenly you figure out the formula and crack the whole thing? That’s what it felt like.”

 

Lance raises his head and frowns. “Hmm,” he says. “I’m gonna have to call Pidge to verify this.”

 

“Do you really need to? You know they’re busy with field work,” Hunk says, shaking his head as Lance’s hand hovers over the call button on his phone. Often Lance can’t tell a good idea from a bad idea, even with Hunk desperately trying to act as his conscience. “Besides - you’ve met the guy. And you’ve hit it off, as you’ve said-”

 

“Yeah, but what if there’s something bigger than both of us?” Lance flails. “Like, he’s my cosmic destiny. Shouldn’t I be testing this? Are we bound to meet in every universe? If I fuck up now, do I lose my chances or is it always going to be him?”

 

“Whoa,” Hunk says, raising up his hands. “Slow down. You should probably just let the universe do its thing, Lance.”

 

Lance whirls on him. “We’re scientists!” He hisses. “We’re here to uncover the secrets of the universe! There’s so much we don’t know!”

 

Hunk scratches his head because one, that _is_ true, and two, their natural curiosity is what got both of them here in the first place. But still - “I don’t think this counts as a quantifiable subject matter,” Hunk says. “He’s another human being, not a test subject. I mean, you could bring up the possibilities with him, and if he agrees, you could work something about but...dude...you don’t really want to mess with the universe. Marie Curie died of radiation exposure! The breakthrough isn’t worth it, man. Just enjoy this chance encounter and see how it goes.”

 

Lance folds his arms. “Fine,” he says. “But I still think it’s fishy. Someone needs to explain the concept of love at first sight to me with sources.”

 

Hunk shrugs. “The rules of love are deep and unfathomable.”

 

==

 

Lance isn’t worried, exactly.

 

He just feels he’s out of his depth. He’s been texting Shiro all weekend long, and not once has the topic turned to anything thesis-related. Lance is still suspicious, but Shiro had said last Friday was a date so. _Soooo._

 

Plus Shiro texts so formally. He puts punctuations at the end of his sentences, and he’s only used three smileys so far. Is Lance coming off as annoying? He really shouldn’t send that many emojis in one message, right?

 

He still hasn’t sent a selfie either. Fuck. But then, neither has Shiro, but Lance has a hard time imagining the guy using his front facing camera. Dude had an Android, for goodness’ sake.

 

“So what, no FaceTime?” Pidge had joked, smirking during class. Lance had glared in response.

 

He’s obviously the serious type. Why he’d be interested at all continues to baffle Lance, except for this one surprising fact: They’re really getting along.

 

With Hunk, Lance can talk about anything under sun, including his stringent belief that mermaids are real (“dude, we’ve discussed this before; a human hybrid existing underwater is scientifically impossible”) to the consequences of drinking expired milk. But Shiro is...approachable, he supposes. Lance hasn’t let his mouth run away too much but so far Shiro is agreeable enough to discuss anything he wants.

 

And he thinks pineapples don’t belong to pizza, so he’s definitely ranked higher up there than at least four other people Lance has dated.

 

It’s just different, Lance thinks. Most people he’s dated want to make out by now - not that he’s morally opposed to _that_ \- but Shiro’s. Chill? Taking it slow? Absolutely the kind of guy you’d introduce to your parents?

 

He’s trying to imagine his family fawning over Shiro. He’d probably discuss serious things like sustainable development or tax breaks. Lance doesn’t know shit about either of those things.

 

Not that Shiro’s talked about those either. Mostly he talks about his teaching assistant slash researcher post, which is cool, and the stray cats he sees in the campus, which is double cool. Lance had been so pumped about that tidbit - he ended up sending like ten photos of all his cats back home. Shiro had even asked all their names! Lance is so, so close to falling and it’s frightening him. He hasn’t even kissed the guy - scratch that, he hasn’t even held his hand! His brain needs to slow down, stat.

 

On Tuesday - exactly a week after they had first seen each other - Lance waits for Shiro after his class. He rolls up in a minivan, and Lance raises an eyebrow. “Why do you have a mom car?” he asks, as he slides into the passenger seat.

 

Shiro’s skin is so light that Lance has a hard time telling if he’s blushing or not. Lance wishes he weren’t as obvious; when he’s embarrassed his face lights up like a Christmas tree.

 

“It’s my aunt’s, actually,” he admits. “I wasn’t really going to get a car here - I mean, unnecessary expense, really, but the commute to Cleveland and back is unrealistic. My cousins have all graduated so she’s not using it as much, so she lent it to me.”

 

“Nice,” Lance comments. “My parents won’t let me near our car. Say I’d total it given the chance.”

 

Shiro blinks. “Would you?”

 

Lance shrugs, pulling on his seatbelt. “I was fifteen, I really shouldn’t have snuck the car out. Crashed it against the neighbor’s gate while backing up. Stupid, right?” He smiles at the sound of Shiro’s laughter, giddy with delight. Normally Lance just likes to tell stories where he’s a hero, because he wants to sound good. But somehow he doesn’t mind telling Shiro all the stories where he fucks up.

 

“I took up driving lessons here, actually,” Shiro admits, as he pulls out of the campus driveway. “There’s no cause for cars in Japan - public transport is everywhere. I even used to bike to school.”

 

“We have buses too in Havana,” Lance says, smiling at the memory. “Though I could walk to school, no problem. Everywhere you walk, you can see the beach, so it was perfect. The smell of the sea always cheers me up.”

 

He risks a glance at Shiro, who’s focused on the road.

 

“I’m not a beach person,” Shiro says, glancing at the side mirror as he changes lanes. “I sunburn too easily.”

 

“Oh my god,” Lance says. “Stop the car. I can’t date someone who hates the beach - my goal is to retire by the seaside.”

 

He’s kidding when he says it, but his voice is caught in his throat when Shiro turns to him at the first stop sign. “Guess I’ll have to get used to it, then,” Shiro says, his voice light, and Lance is back to his Christmas tree impression.

 

They hit the highway, and Lance stares at the passing cars and the scenery that gets blurry as Shiro speeds up. It’s strange - he always misses home, in the back of his head, but every day here at the university is an adventure he’d never pass up. He knows this has a deadline, that one day he’ll be back in Havana, back to the sea and the sand and the safety.

 

He wonders if anything will ever compare. Sure; maybe he could go up in space, but he doesn’t think he can _stay_. Home is where his heart is, and home will always be their tiny bungalow by the beach.

 

He startles when he hears the engine being switched off. He’d stopped paying attention at some point. Shiro hasn’t told him where he’s bringing him today, and Lance is interested enough to wait and find out what might constitute as a surprise instead of guessing throughout the car ride.

 

His breath catches though, when he sees the signboard outside.

 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Shiro says. “It’s not as good as the beach, but.” He shrugs, the corners of his lips pulled up to a smile, and Lance knows for sure - he’s done with falling, because he’s just hit solid ground.

 

==

 

“So why the aquarium?” Lance asks, once they’re done ogling the king penguins.

 

Shiro shrugs. “Figured I needed to step it up for date number two,” he admits. He looks directly at Lance so he can gauge his reaction. “Did I pass the test?”

 

Lance makes a sound that’s like a mix of a choke and a laugh. “I’ll let you know at the end of the semester,” he responds, grinning.

 

This is what Shiro likes so much about Lance - he has no problem meeting him halfway, no matter how ridiculous it sounds. “I’ll be looking forward to that evaluation, then.”

 

He lets Lance steer them to the next display, this one full of sea otters. There are several kids crowding the glass, hands pressed so tightly they leave fingerprints. Shiro understands the longing to get close enough to touch. Lance’s hand is been just there, not jammed into his pockets or anything, but Shiro can’t find the courage to reach out and take it.

 

Fortunately for him, Lance doesn’t seem to have that problem; he snags Shiro’s hand as he walks, saying, “Hurry up, we’re going to miss the performance!” They’re running now, amongst a throng of excited families heading straight to the area of the underwater show. There’s a trainer with a seal, and Lance watches the production with such rapt attention you’d think they were unveiling the mysteries of the universe.

 

Meanwhile, Shiro settles for a different view. The blue low light only serves to make Lance’s silhouette look more attractive. Shiro is finding it very difficult to tear his eyes away.

 

He wouldn’t exactly profess an interest in sea inhabitants - Shiro’s more of a mountain climbing, dirt trail biking kind of guy. He’s been to the beach for an exact total of five times, three of which were summer school trips. The open sea doesn’t terrify him, but it doesn’t call out to him, either. What Shiro has always preferred is the solid ground, though the stars are a close competitor.

 

Space doesn’t consume him like it does Keith, who has a one-track mind, but it certainly holds a certain kind of marvel. The vast, unexplored universe waiting for them. Maybe this is what intoxicated the Europeans to travel and colonize the unmapped world - the lingering temptation of being hailed the first to land somewhere, to discover what others have yet to know.

 

That same fascination is omnipresent in his every interaction with Lance. Shiro’s uncomfortably aware of how he drinks up every little anecdote that Lance throws in his way, remembering all three sisters, two brothers, six aunts (“we’ve got lesbian aunts, so there’s obviously a gay strain in the family”), two-and-a-half uncles, and even the name of his abuelita. Shiro’s got a good memory, and he’s happy to file them away, even if Lance thinks his blabbering is inconsequential.

 

Lance is midway another story about a jellyfish stinging his cousin as they look at the giant tubes full of jellyfish. “Those rashes were the creepiest thing ever,” he says. “We all thought he was going to _die._ ”

 

Shiro taps the thick glass separating him from the poisonous jellyfish. “So how did Tia Corazon react?”

 

Lance crinkles his eyes with a matching soft smile of nostalgia. “She took out her rosary and started a pray over. It was a riot. We were all called out of the water to gather around Milo. If he wasn’t going to die of the jellyfish sting, he was of embarrassment.”

 

“It must be nice to have such a big family,” Shiro comments next. His parents are strict but well-meaning, and Shiro’s learned early on the importance of independence and responsibility. He’s not worried about disappointing his parents, even marooned so far away from them.

 

(He plans to go to _space._ Obviously his parents have given up on the thought of having grandchildren.)

 

“It gets crazy sometimes,” Lance admits. “I’d give anything to have some personal space. But when I’m stuck alone, I get bored too.” He laughs, shrugging. “So I guess I got too used to it.”

 

He reminds Shiro of the fish, all stuck in ugly captivity. They have no choice but to coexist, and maybe at some point they enjoy it too. Unparalleled freedom is not Lance’s calling. The sea water runs through his veins; his heart is built with homemade garlic knots and prayer circles.

 

Shiro wonders if he can survive in a glass bowl. There’s only so much of routine he can take before he has to break free of the monotony.

 

Not that there’s anything monotonous about Lance, if Shiro’s to judge by his constant motion. Lance morphs into different expressions every minute, an ever-changing presence in front of Shiro. He’s like liquid, moving to fill in all the cracks and empty spaces Shiro never even knew existed in him.

 

Right now they’re sitting at the cafe on the fourth level, still surrounded by fish on all sides. Lance is humming absentmindedly as he follows a lazy manta ray circling by their booth.

 

“Don’t you think it’s cruel though,” Shiro asks, gesturing to the giant tanks. “That they’re stuck here, and not in their natural habitat.”

 

Lance pauses, putting a considering hand on his chin. “There’s a debate there,” he admits. “But at the same time - how else can we see all these wonders? How can we even know them? It’s not like a protected zoo in middle of the wild - none of us can dive deep enough to see these fish where they belong.”

 

“It’s human curiosity,” Lance adds. “We can’t stop ourselves from wanting to know, to discover more. Just like space.” He grins. “We don’t belong there either, but we’re finding ways to get there anyway.”

 

“I’d say they’re two different things,” Shiro says. “But I suppose I’ll concede from an academic standpoint. But these aquariums are just for masses to consume.”

 

Lance shrugs. “If the sight of these inspire one or two kids to become a marine biologist or a benthic ecologist then it’s a job well done, don’t you think?”

 

Shiro laughs, delighted. Maybe the ocean is vast and deep and entirely capable of drowning him, but it’s never too late to try and know it better. After all, Shiro enjoys challenges.

 

They take another round on the aquarium’s last level, the sea turtles swimming gently alongside them. The conversation has died out half an hour ago, but Shiro is content with the silence. Lance’s hand is warm in his, and that’s enough for him to enjoy their stroll together. It’s a disappointment when they finally reach the door with a bright EXIT sign, leading them back outside.

 

They emerge, eventually, back into the sunlight. Shiro rapidly blinks. Even though the light is slowly fading into the horizon, he’s still having difficulty adjusting. They walk slowly back to his car, crossing the parking lot in a leisurely pace. Shiro realizes midway that he’s stalling - because so far his afternoon has been fantastic, and he doesn’t want it to end.

 

He hopes Lance feels the same.

 

They reach his car, and Lance leans against the passenger side, not getting in. He looks up at Shiro with a soft smile. “This was nice,” he says.

 

Shiro opens his mouth. Closes it. “I’m glad you had fun,” he says.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Lance says. “You just raised the bar, buddy. So I’m taking the bait!” Shiro blinks, amused, as Lance continues. “I’m going to knock your socks off with date number three.”

 

The fact that Lance wants to keep seeing him makes Shiro’s stomach do Olympic-level somersaults. “I look forward to that,” he manages, aiming for casual.

 

Lance grins happily, aiming one finger gun at him. “Watch out, Mr. Shirogane. You’ve got competition.”

 

He’s so beautiful. Inexplicably, Shiro is filled with the urge to lean in and press his lips against his. It should be so simple. Lance is still smiling up at him, face tilted towards him - a clear invitation of something. He just doesn’t know what.

 

He wants to say, _do you want to go home with me?_

 

Or, _I have never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do._

 

But he doesn’t. Instead he drives Lance back to his dorm, letting the pop music fill in the space where the conversation should be. _I didn’t know that I was starving ‘til I tasted you,_ some girl croons as they arrive back in the university. Lance says good night, leaning in for a quick hug, before getting out of the passenger seat and closing the door with barely a slam. Shiro watches him wave goodbye from the driveway as he shifts gears. He heads back to Cleveland, overthinking everything that happened in the past four hours as he drives, until he gets back to his place and falls asleep, fitfully, at 3am.

 

Damn it.

 

==

 

Lance is ninety percent sure he’s doing something wrong.

 

“Maybe,” Hunk says slowly, “you should kiss him.”

 

Lance slumps against the table, because it isn’t as if he hasn’t _tried_. Every time he leans just a little too close, Shiro politely steers him back to a respectable distance. “But what if he’s not into that?” he wails. “I mean, he’s the perfect gentleman - what if that’s the whole thing, you know? What if he’s - ” he lowers his voice, “waiting for _marriage_?”

 

“I doubt he’s Christian, Lance,” Hunk says. “So it shouldn’t really make a difference.”

 

“What if he’s asexual?”

 

Pidge fiddles with their glasses. “What if,” they begin, as if they’re stating a mind-blowing fact, “you just ask your fucking boyfriend.”

 

Lance flinches as if he’s been electrocuted. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

 

“Lance,” Pidge says, very patiently, “this man is driving six hours once a week to come and see you. Surely that must mean something.”

 

“He has classes here!”

 

“Yeah,” Pidge says. “He could just leave after that. But he’s making an effort to see you, and if that’s not an indication of how serious he is about you, then I don’t know what is.”

 

Pidge has a point. But Shiro has also not reached out for Lance’s hand in the past eight times they’ve seen each other, and neither has he initiated any movement into Lance’s personal space. He hasn’t even thrown his arms over his shoulder! If there are supposedly signs, Lance is missing all of them.

 

“He’s just, ugh,” Lance says, close to tearing his hair out. “Every time I want to make a move I’m terrified he’ll click his tongue and act like a disappointed father, like I couldn’t keep it in my pants. I wouldn’t put it past him,” he adds glumly. “He definitely feels like a Hot Dad, and not in a porn-y way.”

 

“Get him drunk,” Pidge says, ignoring Hunk’s gasps. “That always works.”

 

“No, Lance!” Hunk says immediately. “That’s equivalent to taking advantage of someone!” He glares at Pidge, who sticks out their tongue.

 

“He obviously _likes_ Lance,” Pidge grumbles. “He just needs to loosen up a bit. This guy’s even worse than Keith.”

 

“Okay, one, no one is worse than Keith,” Lance declares, feeling the need to defend Shiro’s honor. “That guy is a total stick in the mud. Two, Shiro can’t drink - he drives all the way back back. It would be irresponsible.”

 

“Make him crash in your dorm,” Pidge suggests. “Hunk can stay with me for a night. We can watch The History Channel until we pass out.”

 

“Wow,” Hunk says. He’s clearly considering Pidge’s offer, though. “You’re really trying to do Lance a favor here, Pidge.”

 

Pidge rolls their eyes. “It just makes me sad to see another guy pining over Lance without it going anywhere.”

 

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

 

“This is going somewhere, though,” Hunk points out.

 

“What are you guys even talking about?” Lance asks, baffled. Were his friends saying there were guys out there pining over him? If that were true, how come he didn’t know any?

 

“Yeah, but it’s going too slow,” Pidge says. “Things might get complicated. At some point Lance will either explode of sexual frustration or someone else might make a move, whichever comes first.”

 

The thought of someone else dating Shiro strikes a chord right at Lance’s ribs. “You don’t think he’s dating someone else, do you?” he asks, feeling numb. “I mean - well, I wouldn’t be surprised. We haven’t said anything about being exclusive or anything. And - he’s older, and stuff, and _oh my god_.” Lance has just upset himself with wild scenarios of Shiro’s other date prospects, of which there were probably many.

 

Hunk gives Lance a look, the same one he makes whenever Lance buys the wrong kinds of vegetables for his food recipes. “Lance,” he starts soothingly, “Between all the stuff Shiro is up to, I don’t think he has time to date other people.”

 

Lance sighs. “True. I mean, he barely has time to date me.”

 

There is a bit of silence.

 

“Oh no,” Lance says, horrified. “What if he wants to stop dating me because he’s too busy and he’s just trying to find a way to let me down gently?”

 

==

 

It is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day for Keith.

 

For one, his phone had died in the middle of the night, which means there’s no alarm to wake him up at six am, leading for him to miss half of his Advanced Physics class. It’s the one professor who actually cares about attendance, and while Keith normally doesn’t give two shits, he actually enjoys Ryner’s classes. She explains the concepts well and doesn’t give surprise pop quizzes.

 

Next, the person in front of him has just gotten the last fucking apple juice box in the vending machine. Keith had contemplated just mugging the guy after he slotted in his coins and had been alerted that the flavor he had wanted is no longer available.

 

Finally - and this is the real kicker - Lance is currently sitting beside him in the steps to their college. Normally this is a good occurrence, a rare bit of luck that Keith treasures.

 

But today all Lance wants to talk about is Shiro.

 

“He won’t even hold my hand, Keith,” Lance whines, sounding like a kicked puppy. “Maybe he doesn’t like me after all.”

 

Keith grits his teeth. He’s half-tempted to tell Lance that maybe he’s right, maybe Shiro doesn’t like him at all, but he knows that’s the farthest from the truth. It’s obvious from the way Shiro stubbornly doesn’t bring him up, even though he checks his phone thrice as often than he normally does when they’re together. Keith doesn’t point it out. He is many things, but a masochist isn’t one of them.

 

It’s unfair, but he supposes he’s earned it. What had he been expecting - that Lance is just going to wake up one day and realize he likes Keith back? He’s squashed his feelings so far back he’s left them with all his fucks to give. Keith’s known for so long that he doesn’t have a chance. And of course Lance is going to date someone else seriously. Keith had just hoped he’d be far away in space when it happened, where news would only reach him with a 217 day delay. Maybe by then the pain will be just as staggered.

 

And Shiro is, quite possibly, one of the few people Keith believes will take care of Lance - probably the best choice for him, really, barring Hunk. (Keith tries not to think too much of his jealousy of Hunk. It’s unreasonable and entirely irrational - Hunk’s a great human being. He doesn’t deserve to be the target of Keith’s negative emotions.)

 

“Maybe he’s just shy,” Keith says half-heartedly. Shiro has always been slow on the uptake when it comes to relationships; Keith’s watched him crash and burn with a number of people just because he’s not too astute on what they want. Not that Keith can claim to know more. All he knows from romance is gleaned from Korean dramas, and that’s not a lot to go on.

 

“He doesn’t have anything to be shy about!” Lance hisses, gesticulating wildly. “This guy’s a looker, Keith - he could ask anyone out in the campus and they’d say yes!”

 

“I wouldn’t say yes,” Keith points out.

 

Lance rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you meet him,” he says.

 

Keith almost laughs. Lance doesn’t know he knows Shiro, and he’s not sure he wants Lance to find out. He’s being surprisingly secretive about the relationship - seemingly only bringing it up when he’s hit a wall. Not that Keith can fathom why Lance would go to him for advice. “You’d be surprised,” he replies instead.

 

“Whatever.” Lance sighs, leaning back to dig his elbows on one of the steps. “I mean - what if it’s me? What if he thinks I’m too young? Or immature? Or self-absorbed?” He bites his lip. “Keith, do I talk about myself too much?”

 

Keith heaves a sigh, because he’s never been raised to lie and Lance has always appreciated his brutal honesty. “Lance, if he can’t accept who you are then obviously you shouldn’t date him.”

 

Lance frowns at him. “So you do think I talk about myself too much,” he accuses.

 

“Yes,” Keith snaps. “But also,” he continues, ignoring Lance screeches of _oh my god,_ his heart clenching painfully, “someone who really likes you wouldn’t mind that fact.”

 

Lance looks like he’s going to burst into tears. “But what if he doesn’t like me that much yet? What if he can’t look past that? Shit, Keith, I like him so much - he’s so - ” _perfect, intelligent, amazing, everything I’m not?_ “ - so warm,” Lance continues, entirely unaware of Keith’s growing self-hatred. “Like, he’s so caring and kind and responsible. Sort of like Hunk, but also in a sexy way. Not that Hunk isn’t sexy, but our friendship is too platonic to go that way.” He pauses in thought. “Though I’m sure Pidge would give him a chance, out of every person they know. Can you believe that? Pidge can make an exception for Hunk and I can’t?”

 

“Well,” Keith says, honestly also pausing to think about it, “Their friendship is different from yours. For one, you and Hunk have known each other longer.”

 

“So there’s some sort of time span on the length of friendship that turns it platonic?” Lance asks. “But what about childhood friends ending up together?”

 

“Maybe it’s different for each person?” Keith suggests.

 

“Hmm. Do you have any long-time friends you’d date?” Lance asks.

 

“No,” Keith says immediately, because he hasn’t talked to anyone from Texas since he’s gone to the university, and none of them were really friends. Just passing acquaintances, enough so he could sit with someone at lunch, but never enough to be invited to parties. That had been exactly how Keith preferred it.

 

Lance nods. “But do you have friends you would date, though?”

 

Keith stutters there, because for so long he doesn’t know if he can classify Lance as a friend, or if Lance would agree to be considered a friend. Their ‘rivalry’ had pitted them together closely, whether he had liked it or not, and now in the aftermath he doesn’t know what to call it. “I don’t know,” he says instead.

 

“That’s a maybe,” Lance decides for him. “So...does that mean you have a friend you like, or you don’t have enough friends to decide if you like them?”

 

Keith glares. “Lance,” he says warningly. The topic is getting too personal, and the last thing Keith wants to do is end up spilling his feelings, especially now that Lance is head over heels for one of Keith’s closest friends. It’s a situation he never thought he’d be in, Korean dramas bedamned. He’d always thought he was smarter than falling into a ridiculous television trope, but here he is, a suffering side character on a burgeoning romance.

 

“Fine,” Lance huffs. “I just thought it would be nice, you know. I mean I tell you stuff,” he says. “I thought you might want to tell me stuff in return.” He sits up, looking at Keith in full attention.

 

“There’s nothing,” Keith says. “I don’t have time to date anyone.”

 

Lance shakes his head. “That is sad,” he says. “We’re at the prime of our youth, Keith! How in the world will you find the one you love if you’re like this?”

 

 _I already found him,_ Keith thinks. _But it’s too late._

 

==

 

Shiro’s mid-type on his latest case study report when someone calls out his name. He looks up, pushing up his glasses.

 

“Working the hot professor look, aren’t we?” The same voice says behind him, and Shiro turns around. He’s greeted by the sight of Allura, Professor Alfor’s daughter, who’s currently taking up some classes in the uni for an exchange program. Shiro lights up immediately, standing up to hold out his hand.

 

“Princess,” he greets, smiling a little as her face transforms into a scowl. “It’s good to see you.”

 

“Drop the nicknames, Mr. Shirogane,” she scolds, shaking her head.

 

Allura is one of Shiro’s favorite new people; she and Shiro had hit it off immediately ever since her father had introduced them after one of his classes. There’s mutual respect on both sides - Shiro admires Allura’s grace and composure, and Allura acknowledges his commitment to his work ethic. On their first day meeting each other, they’d spent a good hour discussing space flight technicalities, debating for so long that Allura had nearly missed her next class. That was how Shiro had known they were going to be good friends.

 

He likes to tease her with her father’s nickname for her, which Allura despairs of. “He treats me like a child,” she’s said several times, sighing. Now is no different.

 

“You are his only daughter,” Shiro points out.

 

“That’s no excuse to act like I’m a baby,” she says indignantly. “I am older than you, you know.”

 

“Well, it doesn’t show,” Shiro reassures her. Allura rolls her eyes. “I’ve no need for your flattery, Shiro,” she says.

 

“Good,” Shiro says amicably. “That’s why I can give it so freely.” He never has to worry that he’s coming off differently to Allura; they’re comfortable around each other. It’s nice to be able to relax with someone without any kind of expectations. Shiro gets that enough from everyone.

 

Allura drops down to the seat across him. “You know I see you around lately,” she says thoughtfully, cupping her cheeks in her hands. “Though I’ve heard you’ve got a teaching post elsewhere for your research. Do you only come here for my father’s classes?”

 

Shiro shrugs. “His classes are worth the trip.”

 

“He’ll be happy to hear that,” Allura says, and she reaches to touch his arm. “Though don’t run yourself too ragged.”

 

“Speaking from experience?” Shiro jokes. Allura’s juggling a double degree on Business Economics and Environmental Science. If two people can marry such differing studies, it’s her. Shiro’s in awe of her, really. She’d been studying in London since last year, though right now she’s taking part of cross-cultural programmes to broaden her perspective.

 

Allura sighs, shaking her head. “Sometimes I worry I’ve bitten off more than I can chew,” she says. “But then: one must live up to their parents’ legacies.”

 

“You’ll change the world,” Shiro assures her, quite certain about the fact. Allura’s a born leader; Shiro can see it in her eyes. It’s the same fire he’s seen in Keith. They’re going to do something great one day.

 

Allura smiles. “I suppose you’ll hear about it once you come down from space from your successful mission,” she says.

 

Shiro shrugs. “Assuming I don’t get abducted by aliens.”

 

“Oh, please.” Allura rolls her eyes. “Why must we always assume alien lifeforms will be hostile?”

 

“It’s the narrative we’ve perpetuated globally,” Shiro says. “There are always colonizers waiting in the shadows.”

 

“Well,” Allura says, frowning, “I hope all we’ll have is a good exchange of ideas and the possibility of intergalactic peace.”

 

Shiro opens his mouth to argue further, when his eyes catch a familiar sight. Like a magnet drawn to its pair, Shiro turns his head, and meets Lance’s gaze directly.

 

The effect is instantaneous. Shiro feels the blood rush up his face. He’s tempted to look away from embarrassment. Lance looks just as shocked; he’s standing across the break room, frozen.

 

“What’s wrong?” Allura asks, twisting her body to look.

 

“I,” Shiro says, flustered. “Can you give me a minute?” He makes a move to stand, and that breaks whatever spell that keeps Lance rooted. He lowers his head, walking fast in his direction. Shiro moves to intercept him.

 

“Hey,” he says softly, once they’re barely a foot apart.

 

“...hey,” Lance replies back weakly. His face is just as red as Shiro’s. “I, uh. You didn’t tell me  you were in the campus,” he says.

 

“I was working on my case study,” Shiro explains. “I was going to text you after.”

 

Lance nods slowly. “Right.” He glances behind Shiro’s shoulder, mouth pursed.

 

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” Shiro asks, concerned. Lance looks upset for some reason, but Shiro can’t fathom why.

 

Lance shakes his head. “No, I’m...fine,” he says hesitantly. “Sorry. I was surprised to see you, that’s all.”

 

Shiro relaxes. “I am too,” he says. “But I’m glad. I’ve been wanting to see you,” he admits, allowing the smallest of vulnerabilities to slip through. He’s had Lance on his mind more than he cares to admit, but he doesn’t want it to take over his life. He’s never been this attracted to anyone, and he’s constantly worried he’ll fuck it up.

 

“Oh,” Lance says, his mouth hanging open. There’s a blush spread all over his face. “Me too,” he admits quietly, and Shiro can feel his heart thudding twice as fast in his chest. “But I figured you were busy, so.” He shifts nervously, twisting his hands.

 

“Hey,” Shiro says. “I’ll always make time for you.” He puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder. He’s tempted to draw him into a hug, but they’re in public and he’s not too sure about that. “Come sit with us.” He steers Lance towards the seat beside him. Allura, still seated by the table, raises an eyebrow. Shiro gestures at her. “Lance, this is Allura, Professor Alfor’s daughter. She’s taking an exchange student programme here.”

 

Lance stares at Allura, eyes wide. “Whoa,” he blurts out. “You’re - you are way more gorgeous up close.”

 

Allura blinks. “Excuse me?”

 

Lance claps his hand to his mouth. “Sorry,” he says. “I see you at uh, Professor Coran’s sometimes? He’s my thesis advisor,” he explains.

 

“Oh!” Allura’s mouth breaks into a smile. “That’s wonderful. Coran’s like an uncle to me, really - I sit in on some of his classes,” she explains to Shiro, before turning back again to Lance. “He can ramble on sometimes, but he’s really quite helpful!”

 

“I know!” Lance nods fervently. “You just have to filter what he’s saying, that’s all. He also helps break down the concepts when you’re having a hard time -”

 

“I know!” Allura enthusiastically launches on about Professor Coran’s good points, to which Lance listens to with eagerness. Shiro sits there, torn between confusion and amusement as they have a rapid fire exchange.

 

“That’s a good topic you’ve got there,” Allura is saying, after Lance gives her a quick rundown on his thesis. “A lot of research involved, but that’s Coran’s specialty. What are your data gathering methods?”

 

“Well,” Lance hedges. “I’ve narrowed it down to imaging using spectographs and telescopes for accuracy. I might do some digital imaging simulation - my friend Pidge is fantastic at it, so I’ll get their help - but that will just be for filling in the blanks.” He glances up for Shiro, as if for validation, so Shiro nods in agreement.

 

“You can also cross-reference from existing data archives to make it easier,” Shiro adds, opening a few tabs in his laptop to show Lance. “No point in covering again what others have already worked on. I’ll send you the links to some resources, if you want.”

 

Lance peers at screen. “Perfect,” he says, with a tiny smile. Shiro can’t help but return it. Lance’s smiles have always been infectious.

 

Allura claps her hands together, eyes going wide. “Oh! Is Shiro helping you out with your thesis?” she asks.

 

Shiro nearly chokes on his coffee. If he’s going to be honest, he and Lance haven’t talked about his thesis since their first date.

 

“Er,” Lance stalls, “...Yes?”

 

Allura looks at them, bemused by the hesitation in Lance’s tone.

 

Shiro clears his throat. He hadn’t been expecting this question. “Lance is my,” - obviously not a friend, but they haven’t exactly discussed what they _are._ He can just say they’re dating - that’s the truth. But he certainly wishes they were more. “Uh.” He’s suddenly terrified of looking at Lance’s direction.

 

Allura looks at both of them, probably taking in their expressions. “Oh my goodness,” she says slowly. “Is _this_ the reason why I see you around campus all the time now?”

 

“Allura!” Shiro hisses, feeling his face his heat up.

 

Her eyes are practically sparkling. “Shiro! You didn’t tell me were seeing someone!” Her grin is positively wicked now; clearly she’s elated with the chance to tease Shiro.

 

“Oh my god,” he hears Lance mutters. Shiro’s face is on fire. He sneaks a look at Lance, whose face is a matching shade of red.

 

Allura leans in closer, putting her elbows on the table. “Tell me everything. How did you guys meet?”

 

“...at a coffee shop,” Lance says, relenting under Allura’s intense gaze. “He, uh, gave me his card.”

 

Shiro is now the one to mutter “Oh my god,” because hearing it from Lance just makes him realize what a stupid move that is.

 

“You gave him your card!” Allura shrieks in delight. “And then?”

 

“Stop,” Shiro pleads. “Let’s leave this table and never speak to Allura ever again.” From Lance’s expression, he looks just as willing to take the out.

 

“No!” Allura slams on the table. “Shiro, please. Let your boyfriend finish!”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Shiro says quickly, alarmed. Allura’s jumping to conclusions, and Shiro doesn’t want Lance to think he’s assuming things between them. Not that he’s against Lance being his boyfriend - it’s just...not what they are at the moment.

 

Allura’s eyebrows go so high up Shiro’s worried they’ll launch off to space. “At all? Or yet?” She looks at Lance.

 

“...yet?” Lance eventually answers, his voice barely a whisper. Shiro feels his whole stomach drop in shock. Did he hear Lance right?

 

“I mean,” he adds, squirming in the sudden silence. “I...I would like it if you were my boyfriend,” he says bravely, turning to look at Shiro.

 

Shiro literally feels his heart skip a beat. Oh god, he must be dreaming, because Lance has just said he wants to be his boyfriend. Out loud. “Really?” he says, his voice cracking.

 

“Really.” Lance confirms, with a small smile. “I, uh, wasn’t sure if you want to or not…”

 

Shiro’s heart is in his throat. “Of course I want to!” He says. “I’m just...I know I’m not around all the time, and we only see each other every now and then -”

 

“I don’t mind any of that!” Lance says quickly. “I...I’m really happy with you, Shiro.”

 

Shiro barely registers Allura’s soft gasp. He’s almost forgotten she’s sitting across them. All he can feel is the mad giddiness expanding throughout his entire being. He can barely breathe from how happy he feels. Lance likes him. Lance wants to be with him. The idea seems unbelievable.

 

He covers Lance’s hand with his own, in an attempt to ground himself in the happy daze that his brain is threatening to float off to.

 

Allura grins at them. “This is the cutest thing in the universe,” she says, her phone already whipped out. “I’m going to Snapchat this.”

 

“Allura!” he groans, but Lance just laughs and asks for her account name so they can add each other.

 

“Shiro doesn’t have Snapchat,” he says mournfully.

 

“Shiro’s an old man,” Allura says, with a shake of her head. “He’s worse than Coran.”

 

Lance actually bellylaughs, to Shiro’s eternal mortification. “I could get Snapchat,” he protests.

 

“Nah,” Lance says, grinning. His hand is warm in Shiro’s. “I don’t think it’s your thing.”

 

Shiro would fold his arms, but he doesn’t want to let Lance go. So he just lets Allura lambast him a bit more, while Lance giggles beside him.

 

Right now? Shiro’s the happiest man in the universe, and not even a ridiculously overhyped mobile messaging app can ruin that.

 

==

 

Shiro is holding his hand.

 

Shiro is holding his hand and is walking him back to his dormitory. Allura had left them after a few minutes, congratulating them both, and then graciously insisted on leaving them some alone time. Afterwards, Shiro had packed up his laptop and then asked him out to dinner.

 

“Our first official date together?” Lance had joked, but Shiro had nodded earnestly. Lance had been floored. They’d gone to some Japanese restaurant, on Shiro’s recommendation, and he’d impressed Shiro with his expert use of chopsticks.

 

Now they’re standing outside his room, and Lance desperately doesn’t want Shiro to go. He’s worried that if he does, he’ll wake up and today’s events would have just have been a dream. After all - who gets introduced to their exchange student crush _and_ gets asked to go steady in the span of ten minutes? Lance can’t be that lucky. He still can’t wrap his mind around it. A day ago he’d been worried Shiro was going to break up with him, and now they’re actually together. It’s definitely too good to be true.

 

“So,” Shiro says. He still has his fingers intertwined with Lance’s. “I’m really happy you want to be with me.”

 

Lance’s heart won’t stop dancing all over his chest. “Me too,” he manages. “I’m. Wow. I still can’t believe it.”

 

“Me either,” Shiro admits. “You’re amazing.” He looks at Lance, eyes so earnest that Lance can almost believe him.

 

“You’re definitely more amazing than me,” Lance returns.

 

“I think I’ll fight you on that,” Shiro says, with a grin.

 

“Whatever. Let’s just agree we’re both amazing,” Lance says instead, still bubbly from Shiro’s sheer belief in him. Shiro nods, brushing their foreheads together. Lance wonders if Shiro’s going to kiss him now. Should he close his eyes?

 

“...I should probably head back, though,” Shiro says instead, unaware of Lance’s internal turmoil. “It’s already late.” He sighs, looking upset. “I wish I could stay longer here with you.”

 

Lance’s heart leaps. Before he knows it, he’s saying, “You can stay over. If you want.”

 

Shiro stares at him, looking dumbstruck. Lance almost pedals back. What if Shiro thinks he’s moving too fast? He’d literally just asked him to be his boyfriend three hours ago, and now Lance is asking him to sleep at his place?

 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Shiro asks. “Don’t you have a roommate?” He glances furtively around the hallway, as if Hunk is going to come barreling down to lecture them both on proper relationship etiquette.

 

Lance laughs a little hysterically at the thought. “He won’t mind!” Lance assures a bemused Shiro. “I promise.”

 

Shiro looks doubtful, but he still doesn’t let go of Lance’s hand, so Lance counts that as a yes. He fiddles for his keys in jeans one-handed, just as unwilling to let go. It takes him about a minute longer to get them, but he doesn’t mind. Eventually he manages to slide it in the lock, and he walks inside.

 

The minute they cross the entrance, Lance remembers exactly how messy his room is.

 

“You can stay here for a while,” he says quickly, gesturing to the couch as he internally panics. “I’ll just. Grab you some clothes. I think we have extra toothbrushes somewhere, too.”

 

Shiro reluctantly extracts his hand, taking a seat on the couch. Lance escapes to his room, starting to feel a little ill. He hasn’t thought this through. The love of his life is literally in his dorm room.

 

 _HUNK,_ he texts, in all capital letters. _MAYDAY. MAYDAY._

 

**_is the room on fire? lance, i told you to unplug the toaster before leaving_ **

 

_WORSE. SHIRO’S HERE IN THE DORM ROOM_

 

Lance watches the little disappearing dots at the bottom of his phone. What is Hunk even typing? He chews on his lip nervously.

 

**_dude??? you couldn’t even tell me ahead of time? NOT COOL BRO_ **

 

**_I HAVEN’T GOTTEN ANY CLOTHES YET_ **

 

_IT WAS SUDDEN_

 

**_u_ _know nothing in Pidge’s closet fits me right???_ **

 

 _I’ll do laundry for a month,_ Lance promises, typing so fast he’s afraid he’ll slice the skin off his thumb.

 

The reply takes an agonizing forty five seconds. **_and the dishes_ **

 

_AND THE DISHES!! THANK U HUNK_

 

_Also can i borrow some of your clothes coz none of mine will fit him_

 

**_OH MY GOD LANCE_ **

 

Fifteen minutes later, Lance emerges from his room with a sweatshirt and a pair of jogging pants. “These are Hunk’s,” he announces as he dumps them in Shiro’s arms. “But it’s okay, I asked first,” he adds hastily at Shiro’s expression. “I’d lend you my stuff, but I don’t think you’ll fit into anything I own.”

 

Shiro glances down at him, giving him a onceover. “Probably not,” he says, breaking out a smile. “Tell Hunk I said thanks.”

 

Lance nods. He’d already offered, other than laundry and the dishes, to be responsible for any late night food runs for the next six months. Any more favors and he’ll have to give up his secondborn to his best friend.

 

He hands Shiro the remote. “I’ll go make us some popcorn,” he says. “And uh...anything you want to drink?”

 

Shiro makes a move to stand. “I can help out,” he says. “You don’t have to worry yourself about me.”

 

“No, no,” Lance says, pushing him back down. Whoa. Shiro’s chest is like, rock hard. Lance tries not to swoon. “You’re my guest. Just relax.”

 

Shiro frowns up at Lance. It’s practically a pout. Lance is so completely mesmerized. “If that’s the case, water is fine.” he says, wrapping his fingers around Lance’s wrist.

 

“Okay,” Lance says faintly. “Go choose a show.” Then he ducks to the kitchen before he does something he regrets, like trace his fingers all the way down Shiro’s stomach.

 

Luckily they have a stash of microwavable popcorn. There are perks when your roommate is a massive foodie. If Lance had been stuck rooming with Pidge, he’d be left with a half-empty refrigerator and expired milk. The only perks of Pidge’s room is high speed internet.

 

Fortunately there’s no way to fuck up popcorn, so he justs pops it in the microwave and fills two plastic glasses with water. He can hear Pidge whispering in his shoulder “ _get him drunk_ ” but he waves it off. Shiro’s his boyfriend now, even if they haven’t locked lips.

 

He sincerely hopes that changes by tonight.

 

He scurries back to living room with the bowl of popcorn and drinks, setting it down in front of the table. Shiro’s reviewing the show choices intently as Lance sits beside him. There’s a bit of space left between them, but Lance isn’t sure if he’s ready to press himself against Shiro.

 

“You can just pick anything, you know,” he says, after about two minutes of endless scrolling.

 

Shiro coughs, flushing slightly. “I’m worried you might not like my show choices,” he admits. “I don’t...really know most of these.”

 

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Why? What’s the last show you watched?”

 

Shiro grimaces. “Like, on actual television? Doctor Who,” he says. “When Tennant was still the Doctor.”

 

He can actually feel his jaw drop open. “That has not been on tv for more than a decade,” he says.

 

“I know,” Shiro says, rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t really get to sit down and watch stuff. I haven’t seen a movie in ages. I think the last I’ve watched was the first Iron Man.”

 

Lance stares at him in mild horror. Then he starts laughing. “Oh my god,” he says. “You’re a disaster, Takashi Shirogane.”

 

Shiro smiles a little. “Changing your mind about me, huh?” There’s an undercurrent of worry in his tone, which Lance can’t even begin to fathom.

 

Instead he shakes his head, taking the remote back. “Nah. You’re stuck with me forever.” He flips to one of his favorite shows - he likes lighthearted comedies, with fast talking protagonists and lovable side characters. There aren’t that many explosions - but then Shiro’s hand stays firmly around Lance’s shoulder, so there’s not much of an excuse to not pay attention. It’s a step up from not having physical contact at all, though, so Lance will settle for it. He wonders if Shiro will react if he puts his hand on Shiro’s thigh.

 

They end up actually getting really into the show. Lance is tense throughout the whole thing, worried Shiro thinks Brooklyn Nine Nine is too juvenile, but he laughs at the right parts, and he seems to like Captain Holt best. Lance voices his approval of his opinions.

 

Shiro grins, arm still slung around Lance’s shoulder even after he switches off the TV. They’re left in the darkness, with barely enough moonlight filtering through the dorm windows to let him see a hint of Shiro’s teeth. “So who’s your favorite?”

 

Lance smiles sheepishly. “Jake, I guess. He’s the kind of guy I’d want to be,” he says truthfully. “All around ladies man, pretty cool but still woke enough on important life issues. Coasts a bit on life but gets serious when needed.” He sinks into Shiro’s warmth, enjoying how encompassing he feels.

 

Shiro nods slowly, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “I see the similarities,” he says.

 

Lance brightens. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “And Jake’s kind of cute. Like an excitable puppy.”

 

Lance is about to agree when he’s struck by a thought. “Wait. So you think I’m like an excitable puppy?” he asks.

 

Shiro’s eyes widen, and then he chuckles, covering his mouth. “Well...puppies are adorable.”

 

Lance pouts. “So you don’t find me hot?”

 

To his surprise, Shiro makes a bit of a strangled noise. “Lance,” he says softly. “I find you,” with his gaze roving from Lance’s face and moving downwards, “ _very_ attractive.”

 

The mere statement makes his whole face go hot. “Oh,” he manages. “But you...uh...you haven’t even tried to kiss me yet.” He cringes. Why must he insist on making himself sound so pathetic and needy?

 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about it,” Shiro says, voice low. It sends shivers down Lance’s spine. He’s pretty sure Shiro felt that, with how his grip tightens. “I guess...I was just waiting for the right time.”

 

“Now’s pretty good,” Lance says, before he can stop himself.

 

Shiro looks struck at this. He pulls Lance closer, leaving them little space between their lips. Lance can’t stop looking at Shiro’s mouth, at how it falls open. He can see the barest hint of tongue.

 

When he looks up Shiro’s staring down at him. He quirks a smile. “No time like the present, right?”

 

And he leans in and kisses him.

 

It is every fucking television kiss Lance has ever dreamt of. He can see fireworks before his eyes. He can hear the swelling music in the background. He can even feel the slow motion as everything else in the background fades away. All that matters is _Shiro Shiro Shiro_

 

Shiro’s hand is slipping from his shoulder to his waist, and god it feels so good pressed up against him. Shiro is so _strong_ \- Lance has no doubt he can snap him like a twig if he wanted. And Lance would be kind of into that, but that’s something else to discuss in the future.

 

He’s gasping when they part, eyes blinking rapidly. Shiro’s still looking at him intensely, one hand now tilting his chin. “Wow,” he breathes.

 

He’d say more, but Shiro’s eyes are glittery and bright as he kisses Lance again. In a smooth movement he presses him down the couch so hard Lance can feel the indentations where the pillows meet. He moans a little, liking how Shiro flicks his tongue in his mouth. _Oh god,_ he thinks dizzily. He can die right now as a happy man.

 

He lets his hands touch Shiro’s chest, liking how formed it feels. Shiro makes a soft noise as he grazes his nipples. Lance resolves to store that particular information for the future. He feels up Shiro’s abs through his shirt, imagining the lines.

 

“Can I take off your shirt?” he asks wildly, hands touching the edge of the fabric. still dazed with how much he’s getting just by merely asking. In response Shiro takes it off in one fluid moment, pulling it from the back of his neck, and wow. Wow. That is so fucking hot. Lance can feel his boner right now, which is very, very embarrassing.

 

Shiro sits up, and Lance feasts his eyes on one of the seven wonders of the goddamn universe. The man would fit right into one of those museums full of Greek sculptures. “Oh my god,” Lance actually says, reaching out to touch the bare skin. Shiro’s skin is hot under his. “What are you even?”

 

He feels the rumble as Shiro laughs. “Can I take off _your_ shirt,” he says, throwing the question back at Lance. He feels his face turn red.

 

“You should give me like a month to work out first,” he mumbles. He’s never been shy of his body - he’s a swimmer, for goodness’ sake, but it’s nothing compared to Shiro’s physique.

 

“Nonsense,” Shiro says, hands thumbing at sleeves of Lance’s hoodie. “I bet you’re even more gorgeous than I’ve imagined.”

 

The fact that Shiro’s been imagining him - imagining _this,_ is only worsening the heat pooling in Lance’s nether regions. He’s sure his whole skin is already tinged with red, like a bad sunburn. He doesn’t think that’s attractive at all.

 

Shiro doesn’t push it though - he moves to pressing soft, butterfly kisses to Lance’s neck. Now that he’s shirtless, Lance can feel his whole body burning against his. That would feel so good skin to skin.

 

He’s so, so tempted. But he doesn’t want to disappoint Shiro. What if he doesn’t measure up to his fantasies? So he settles for kissing Shiro the whole night, mouths hot against each other, comfortable enough to lose track of time. He runs his hand through the buzzed hair, distracted by how soft yet rough it feels at the same time. The way Shiro’s holding him by the waist is so tight that Lance won’t be surprised if there’s a handprint left in the morning.

 

The whole thing feels like a dream. Lance would probably have put it down as so, except the morning after he wakes up with most of his lower body numb from the weight and Shiro’s head draped on his chest. Lance feels the wave of unadulterated joy roll over him again as he recalls yesterday’s events.

 

He taps Shiro lightly, hoping it’ll wake him up. Shiro makes an incoherent noise and snuggles closer to Lance.

 

Lance tries not shriek from the sheer adorableness of it. Oh my god. He wishes he had his phone right now. This is the shit you Snapchat.

 

“Shiro?” he tries, after he calms his heart rate down. “Uh? Babe? Sweetheart? Honeybunch?”

 

There’s another groan, and Shiro lifts his head slightly. “Mm?” He blinks a little, all groggy. Lance is going to have a heart attack. His boyfriend still looks hot even when half-asleep. Damn, did he luck out.

 

“I kind of need to go to the bathroom,” he says. “Let me up?”

 

Shiro slowly pushes himself off Lance, yawning. Lance untangles their legs with a bit of regret, then runs off to the bathroom to pee. When he looks at the mirror afterwards, he’s almost shocked at his reflection - his hair is a mess, his skin is all flushed,  and his lips are still swollen.

 

He watches his face spread into a smile. “Oh man,” he says breathlessly. “Oh my fucking God.”

 

Someone’s blasting music from the room beside theirs - the walls are thin, and holy shit had they heard Lance last night? They’d been pretty quiet, all things considered - and it’s wafting over. Lance strains to hear it, wondering what they can be playing so early in the morning.

 

It’s a familiar saxophone sound, but it’s only when the singer starts belting out the lyrics that Lance realizes exactly who it is.

 

And he starts to laugh. Uncontrollably. Which is where Shiro finds him nearly a minute after, practically in hysterics.

 

“Lance? Are you okay?” he asks, taking him in his arms. Lance would be over the moon with the clear concern in his face, but he’s too busy shaking his head.

 

“Hey, Shiro?” he says, after he finally catches his breath. Shiro steadies him, putting a solid hand on his upper back.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Lance grins. “Do you believe in Carly Rae Jepsen?”


End file.
